Teach Me
by Rh1noa-Lun3r
Summary: College AU - Sebastian is a newly hired professor at a college, one which happens to be run by none other than Claude Faustus. Ciel Phantomhive is the heir to a major company, and believes college is a waste of time. Something about this school might compel him to think differently, however. Rated M for later chapters.


It was a typical morning for the young professor.

He had awoken with a great disdain towards his incessant alarm clock at precisely 6:20AM, hastily showered, and brushed his teeth before combing a hand through his damp, raven locks and heading out the door of his small apartment. With his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, Sebastian Michaelis set out on his bicycle to the Faustian Academic School - a high school namely for those in wealthy families, as the tuition per semester was about the same price as two years tuition at most other private schools in the country.

Sebastian Michaelis was a man of 26 years old, having graduated college only a few years previous, gaining his degree in history education. Just as luck would have it, he was hired at FAS after an administrator at a public high school he had been teaching at received word about needing a history professor as soon as one was available. The head of FAS, Claude Faustus, was not one to argue with, and so Sebastian was sent there that very afternoon, and was hired. He had spent the last week of August moving to the only apartment in London that he could afford.

Now, a few months later, he was biking to the prestigious school in the dead of winter, as he had every other day of the year so far. He had only been working since the beginning of the school year, and had yet to figure out a successful way to teach his classes about the history of the world. Three of his classes were completely adequate, and he had no trouble. It was only his last class of the day where his difficulties lied. There was one student in particular who had him questioning quitting his job, but he now knew that if he did so, it would be a similar situation to being black-balled in Hollywood; he would not be able to get hired anywhere in London, or maybe even England for that matter.

Ciel Phantomhive, a boy named after Heaven, determined to make his professor's life a living Hell. At 20 years old, he was in his junior year of college, his intellect and quick wit allowing him to breeze by. He wouldn't be, if his father allowed him to simply drop out and live life without a degree. He was the heir to the Phantomhive Fashion Agency, a billion dollar organization that would one day fall into his control. His father, Vincent Phantomhive, only required that he study business and design.

Sebastian hopped off of his bike, swiftly chaining it to the lamppost near the professor's entrance of the history building, stationed at the far left side of the campus. He walked through the door and up to his classroom, unlocking the door and flipping on the electric lights. He had never thought that electric lights were enough to set the tone of his class, so he lit the victorian candles placed around the room as well. Knowing his first student would be showing up any minute for help on the previous night's homework assignment. His students had a 150 question test on Ancient Rome that would not be painless if they didn't study for at least two hours previous. His students often complained to him about the difficulty of his exams, but he had told them all at the beginning of the semester that he was not an easy professor to please, and also that if they wanted an easier class, to drop out.

The students began coming in small waves before class began, asking questions or checking answers. All but a handful had straggled in before the 8:35 starting time. It was such in each of his classes, even when he taught in the high school; some students would be at the top of the class, willing to learn and further their knowledge, while others didn't care and spent more time partying than thinking. As he answered the last question from a bright spirited Indian boy named Soma about what Saturnalia was and why it was initiated, his most problematic student sauntered through the door. Ciel Phantomhive, notorious for being late to class walked through the open door, bypassed the professor's desk, which everyone was gathered around to listen to his explanations, and sat down at his assigned desk in the second row.

"Enough questions. It is time for class to begin." The students dissipated from the polished oak desk and to their seats, two pencils placed on their desks, some with an eraser. They knew the drill; nothing could be in front of them albeit pencils, erasers, and a handheld sharpener should they need it. As Sebastian walked across the front row of desks, he gave each student a test, along with a "good luck".

As he moved on to the second row, he stopped in front of Ciel's desk, "Mr. Phantomhive, you would do well to remove your mobile from my sight."

"And you would do well to remove that horrid sweater vest. But I guess we both won't get our way, will we?" Ciel's immediate response was expected, and was granted a sigh by the professor. It was not the first time he had done something like this. Sebastian promptly took the phone from the desk and slipped it into his pocket.

"You may have this back at the end of class, after we have a little discussion." Sebastian handed the packet to Ciel and moved onto the next student. Once the exam was handed out, he went back to his desk and rested his chin on the tops of his hands, thinking about what to do with his problem student. He happened to be failing history at this point, and Sebastian wasn't about to be bribed into passing him simply because he is a Phantomhive and what they want is what they get.

As his students finished their tests, Sebastian could tell how they believed they did by the looks on their faces. Finnian, an animated young Sophomore who had made it into the class despite the difficult entrance exam was confident in his abilities, which the raven-haired professor was happy about, being as Finnian planned on majoring in World History. Ronald, an amorist with a passion for cinematography, was nervous about his score; history was not his best subject. Though he attempted to succeed, things did not always work in his favor.

The two hour period flew by, and every student's completed test was stacked neatly on the corner of the history professor's desk. Even though there were no exams left, each student was dead silent, for they knew that if they spoke a word, even whispered or tapped their pencil against their desk, their professor would hear it, and the guilty student would end up with half of the score they had earned. Simple as that.

The clock ticked to 10:35, and Sebastian released the students to whatever else they had for the day. Ciel stayed back, as asked, and Sebastian sat behind his desk.

"Take a seat, Mr. Phantomhive." He gestured to one of the chairs sitting before his desk, used for confrontations and sometimes disciplinary actions, such as a student mouthing off would have to sit in front of him for the remainder of the period. He had done this too many times with Ciel, and eventually stopped the deficient attempt to control his behavior.

Ciel sat, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the professor. "Let me guess: you're unhappy with my attitude towards you in this class?" He knew that was exactly what it was, not that he was going to change anything. If he showed his professors he was a force to be reckoned with, he would gain the respect he believed he deserved.

"Precisely. I am aware that you loathe my class and maybe even abhor me, but even so, your grades are falling and to get them back up to a passing grade, you will need to complete a lot of work and show me that you are learning." Sebastian knew that with the thought of failing a class, CIel would worry, because his father was not fond of failure in any sense, especially when it came to his son.

"I'm not passing? That's absurd! That would mean I'm failing, and I'm not, I know that. I don't fail. You must have screwed up somewhere with entering grades. Why don't you look at your own mistakes before accusing?" Ciel scowled at Sebastian, anger swirling in his eyes. He was not about to let this professor fail him, especially after the torture of actually having to participate in this boring class, morning after morning.

"I have entered in every grade correctly, Ciel. It is you who is not doing the work. When was the last time you actually turned an assignment in?" Sebastian knew what the answer would be,and his argument would only be helped.

"I don't turn in homework. It's unnecessary. Why do homework if you understand the subject?"

And there it was. Ciel didn't understand; obviously he hadn't listened during Sebastian's opening speech on the first day of class. "Ah, but you see, the way I structure my class is a balance of myself teaching you, and also you teaching yourself. In life, you won't always have someone guiding you along as you learn, and my class is the same way. Much of the homework I assign introduces new subjects that you must teach yourself. Over fifty percent of your tests is based upon what you have taught yourself and how well you have done it. Have you not realized while taking my tests that you don't know the subjects?"

"I figured it was always something strange to see who knew what. It's a ludicrous idea! You're supposed to actually teach us what we need to know, not send us off with an assignment to learn ourselves! What kind of a teacher are you? A horrible one to say the least."

Sebastian knew something of this sort would come out of his mouth. He had been insulted before by the feisty billionaire, but usually blew it off. It wasn't the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. "Mr. Phantomhive, this is my classroom. I was hired to teach, and that is exactly what I am doing. Not only am I teaching you about the world's past, but I am teaching you to explore other topics on your own for the future. I don't think only in the present." The professor knew that Ciel would not cease his arguing until there was a solution brought up, so he offered his own idea. "Tell you what, I will consider rethinking your final grade _if_ you show up tomorrow morning, at 7:30AM with something that shows me you are willing to work, and you know I am not going to accept any work that I believe is not up to par." He leaned back, surveying Ciel's face to see what his thoughts were.

"I...alright." He scoffed, glancing to the window in thought, already wondering what he would do to impress Professor Michaelis. "It can be anything? And it just needs to show you that I am an apt student?"

"Yes, that is all. Now, I must prepare for my next class. I will see you tomorrow at 7:30, and if you fail to show up on time, your grade will remain the same."

Ciel nodded, cursing Sebastian as he left the room, slamming the door as he exited the room. Sebastian sighed, placing his head in his hands, not knowing what to do with the Phantomhive. He heard the door open and gently close, but he couldn't deal with another student now, he had to develop an idea because he knew Ciel wouldn't have one, and though he acted strict, he hated to see students with potential fail. "I'm sorry, I can't answer any question right n-" As he looked up, he saw it was not who he was expecting. "Sorry, I've just been having trouble with one of my students."

Claude Faustus, the head of the school, had come to see just how Sebastian was faring. "That is not a rare occurrence in the education system, Michaelis." he said with a slight laugh. "I hope it is not too much for you? I hired you at this school because I assumed you could do it. Am I mistaken?" An eyebrow raised in question, and the intimidation laced through the golden eyed dean's words pierced Sebastian's brain.

"Not at all. You have just caught me at an inopportune time." The professor stood from his chair and walked to the chalkboard. He preferred basic methods of teaching rather than whatever the new technology craze was. He didn't want to be controlled like that, or in any way at all. He began to erase the board's contents with a dusty eraser. "Why? Are you hoping to replace me sometime soon?" His words were not fearful, only curious. He could always find another job somewhere, it didn't matter where to him, as long as he could pay his rent.

"Not at all. Just don't fall under pressure, Michaelis." And with that, the dean was gone. The door briskly closed, and Sebastian finished cleaning his board, prepared for the next day, and went home to his apartment to repeat the same routine as he always had.

Or so he thought.

* * *

 ** _Let me know if you think I should continue this_**

 ** _I have no idea where the plot is going, or even what ship to be prominent._**

 ** _I will incorporate ideas if you have any :)_**


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